


demon to lean on

by buzzkill_greaser



Category: Donnie Darko (2001)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lowercase, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Nightmares, but like it hasn't happened yet yknow, but yknow like intentionally, fair warning ; frank is kinda ooc, future canon violence is implied, graphic violence warning is only for descriptions of frank's Fucked Up eye, these tags are a mess i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-13 00:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzkill_greaser/pseuds/buzzkill_greaser
Summary: donnie has a nightmare.





	demon to lean on

**Author's Note:**

> title from demon to lean on - wavves
> 
> //tw for eye horror and nightmares

_cold sweat._

_"wake up."_

_fast breath._

_"wake up."_

_where's frank where's frank where's frank where's frank --_

_"wake up, donnie."_

he sits up quickly, blankets falling around his waist as he tries to catch his breath. he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair. the dark brown strands feel cold and damp under his shaking hands. his breathing is troubled due to the sudden feeling of nausea. he's never been more afraid.

"i'm sorry."

donnie jumps and whips his head to the corner of his room. it's dark, and rain is beating on the window, overwhelming donnie further, but he's sure he can make out some sort of humanoid, furry shape from the space.

it all slows down. he smiles slowly, not psychotically this time, though. a genuinely relieved and happy smile for once in his life.

"frank..." he seems out of breath. frank steps towards donnie slowly, which is odd since frank rarely ever walks around.

when the pale, dim moonlight hits the messy fur of frank's grey-blue rabbit suit, donnie's eyes are instinctively led up to his shoulders, where the grotesque, dead-looking rabbit mask would sit. most people would find a great discomfort in the mask, would be petrified by its appearance on a dark rainy midnight. of course, donnie is not most people. he lets himself take in the intricately messy swirls of fur on the suit, finding safety in their unintentional beauty, before darting his icy blue eyes up to look over the mask. he's met by surprise as opposed to comfort when he realizes that there is no mask upon frank's shoulders. there's a head. a human head, with long black hair that hangs in front of the face and a dead, calm stare.

donnie realizes frank was holding the mask the entire time.

"i didn't want to leave, donnie, i'm sorry."

donnie remembers his dream.

"it's okay, frank," his voice is soft with only a few cracks here and there, "it was just dark, and i was alone, and i was scared, frank, i was scared you weren't coming back, and i just..." he chokes up, trailing off, stalling for time while he tells himself i'm not crying i'm not crying i'm not crying i'm not

the six-foot-tall bunny rabbit turns briefly to sit down beside donnie on the bed. firstly, donnie still feels weird when frank moves around like this, and secondly, he's just realized that frank has made not one, but two humanlike actions willingly tonight, of his own accord. he's confused, and even more so when his imaginary friend turns his head to look at him, with an actual human expression of worry on his tan human face. frank trusts donnie enough, this omnipotent, time-bending, imaginary six-foot bunny rabbit, trusts donnie darko, some edgy kid from middlesex, virginia, enough to let him see his real human face and do real human things around him. of course, the blue-eyed boy just stares at him in bewilderment, pale, chapped lips parted and tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

when one of the tears strays, rolling down donnie's cheek slowly, both boys notice, and while donnie is clearly about to wipe it away quickly, blush spreading across his face, frank simply raises one fluffy rabbit hand and presses it to donnie's face, gently smearing the tear out of existence. donnie's breath catches on his shock and his blush gets worse. he turns his head quickly away from the other, eyes wide and once-pale face red. his sweat is running warm again and his breathing is quiet. he's always liked frank, since that night in the theatre. always liked his face and hair, the way it would fall in front of his only working eye, and he liked the sense of battle-scarred ruggedness that came with the eye that frank no longer had. he liked frank. he never thought frank liked him.

when he turns back, he realizes that frank has turned away as well, and his face has returned to its emotionless, dead state. the long black strands of thick hair now cover his eyes, and donnie can't tell whether he's emotionally hurt or just defaulting to the emotionless omniscient state that donnie is so used to. most people, when confronted with a situation where a god-like being seemed upset with them, would immediately back off, try not to anger them further, and would later visit the local church to repent for their sins.

once again, donnie is not most people.

he moves closer, and lets his calm pale hand run over the other boy’s fur-clothed arm. frank seems to jump, but donnie isn't sure if he's hallucinating or not. he tends to question that a lot. whatever the case, frank turns his head slowly to the other, his hair still covering a lot of of his face, the thick, dark locks having fallen out of place when he decided to stare at the floor dejectedly. donnie only smiles, laughs a little bit, and brushes the strands back behind frank's ears.

in probably the most emotion that donnie has ever seen from his imaginary friend, frank lets his lips part a bit as his good eye widens in the slightest, most subtle manner. even in this action, this manner of expression that would be practically invisible to someone who, say, didn't have a giant imaginary bunny rabbit as a best friend, a saviour, and crush, donnie immediately melts emotionally at it. and with how he is, and how he will never, ever, think even once before he acts, he near-instantly decides to pull frank's head to his and press his lips against the other boy's. frank's dark brown eye widens more noticeably this time, but he doesn't pull away. he would never dream of pulling away from this. even when frank's real, living, breathing friend does break the kiss, the imaginary boy could never dream of leaving that moment of intimacy.

"donnie..."

the sound of the other's voice does scare him a bit. he thinks that frank is going to leave again. he thinks that when he blinks that frank will disappear into nothing. he doesn't blink anyways, but the thought terrifies him. and the cold sweat starts to bead under his bangs and his breath starts running, running in sharp knives of inhaling and exhaling and trying to stay alive and trying not to lose frank again and--

it's then when his seemingly imaginary friend kisses him. and donnie can feel him, his cold skin, and his dry lips, and his messy split-ended hair against his face. he can't feel any breath, but frank's heartbeat pulses through him at a near-dangerous intensity, and donnie knows he can feel that. it's then that he realizes that frank isn't going to leave again. frank isn't going to dissolve into nothing but void if he closes his eyes. and donnie smiles again, genuinely. genuine happiness, genuine relief. he lets his intense, pale blue eyes shut. he knows frank doesn't leave, because he can still feel the chapped roughness of his lips. he can still feel the imaginary boy's heart beating through him, keeping them both alive.

when frank pulls away, donnie swears he can hear the distant, almost muffled sound of a heartrate monitor flatlining, but brushes it off as schizophrenia and lets his eyes open.

he's still there, and donnie sighs in relief, grinning like an idiot and avoiding eye contact, blush heavy. frank just sits, and gulps a bit, one dark eye wide, lips trembling slightly as he brings one of his rabbit suit's paws to them and grazes them over lightly. he has no idea what to do, so he hopes as much as he possibly can that donnie does.

and for once in his life, donnie actually does know what to do.

the blue-eyed boy turns back and buries his face in the soft, comforting fur of frank’s rabbit suit, nearly pushing the other onto the bed as he does. frank thanks donnie silently for avoiding the bare skin of his neck before slowly raising one paw and running his fingers through donnie’s messy brown locks of hair. he hears a small, mumbled laugh from the other, and he smiles slightly, humming lightly as he does. eventually, frank can’t hold the weight of them both, and lets himself fall back onto the mattress, the soft sheets, and the thick blanket. donnie looks up at him and laughs, and frank looks into the other’s wild pale blue eyes. he gets hopelessly lost in them, forgetting any rules he had made for himself against expressing emotions. frank smirks and laughs, looking up to the ceiling.

when he looks back down, he swears that he can see stars in donnie’s eyes. those beautiful, tsunami-coloured eyes that frank could stare at for hours and never get tired of. in those eyes, frank swears that he can hear the waves crashing onto the sand, pulling away smoking metal debris in graceful, ambient low screeches that make the seagulls scatter and yell. frank smiles softly again, lidding his deep eyes halfway as he watches donnie’s expression change from wonder-filled shock to loving amusement. he pulls himself up to kiss frank again, softly and only for a few seconds.

“i fucking love you.”

frank’s heart skips again, and he runs a fluffy rabbit paw through his long, dark hair. the dried blood that once ran down his face almost shines in the faint, near-illusion of the pale moonlight. donnie doesn’t even flinch when he catches sight of his friend’s blood-cloaked, dead eye. something akin to memory occurs in his head, when he stares at the gorey, messy horror that was frank’s right eye, and he swears he hears a faint gunshot somewhere in the back of his mind.

 _schizophrenia_ , he thinks, pressing a chaste kiss to the other’s dried, cracked lips. he rests his head on the front of the soft scruff of fur that surrounds frank’s neck, and he laughs quietly, an amused hum, as the other entangles his hand in donnie’s deep brown hair. frank sets his head back onto the thick, warm duvet covers and lets his left eye close, setting his dark bangs back over the bloody mess that could have once been his right eye.

donnie’s mind calms for the night. he stops seeing claws scraping out from the shadows and stops hearing thunder in the cloudless night sky.

frank’s soul can rest that night. all the pain coursing from his wounded eye ceases, the aching of his spirit quieting, if only for a single night.

if donnie wakes up the next morning lying on a pillow, he wouldn’t care. if the world really was going to end by halloween night, he just wouldn’t care. this was good enough for him. gretchen was good enough for him, frank was good enough for him. right now, the world was good enough for him.

frank’s soul rests, and donnie’s mind sleeps. at least for one night.

and that’s all they need.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry, this is ooc as fuck  
> i'll probably write something in-character with these two soon  
> like it'll be fucked-up as hell  
> but still, yknow. gay.
> 
> richard kelly if you're reading this i'm so sorry


End file.
